


It's a fated path

by Kiku (kikuhiko)



Series: Cruel Joke [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dissociation, Hallucinations, Hostage Situations, Implied Relationships, M/M, Murder, no one questions why bruce goes MIA when Batman shows up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikuhiko/pseuds/Kiku
Summary: Jack's choice to become Joker wasn't ever in his control, was it? Despite knowing Jack's identity, Batman thinks there's still time to save him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If I read the comics right, then when Bruce got his memories back, they kinda overwrote his amnesiac memories right?  
> So then when he becomes Batman again, he wouldn't remember meeting Amnesia Joker, but I think he'd instantly recognize who he was. There's no way he wouldn't, especially after all they've gone through.

Explosions weren’t supposed to be quiet, but drowned out by the blood roaring through his ears, this one was just that. Jack had watched countless victims get tied down and held hostage, now the shoe was on the other foot.

Never in his life would he have ever imagined he’d have to attend one of these stuck up, fancy rich kid parties, but here he was. In the ballroom, tied -- with four other people -- to a table in the back corner of the room. He’d been invited by Bruce Wayne to the gala days prior. Something about his original guest calling out sick.

_‘Better you than some cheap fake model.’_

_‘I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Wayne.’_

And then the gala hall had been invaded by some crime group who had a vendetta against the attendees. Though, perhaps against Bruce Wayne would’ve been more accurate, it was his party after all. 

Speaking of their erstwhile host, the man had been nowhere to be seen since the criminals arrived. 

Really, how did he manage to get himself into these situations?

His hands tied behind his back, Jack struggled against his bonds, but to no avail. He was roped tight. He’d need help. Jack huffed in frustration, his bangs dancing in front of his face.

He needed Batman.

It’s been a few months since the incident at the butcher shop, with Batman and the dreadful -- and unfortunately dead -- customer. In the end, Batman didn’t turn Jack in, instead he’d calmed him down with a few simple gestures and silence. Thinking back on it now, he really shouldn’t have expected anything less from Batman.

Truthfully, he never thought about Batman, even after coming face to face with him. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn’t place it. Though, just as he didn’t care about Batman, he didn’t care about the familiarity either. As long as he was safe, he didn’t care.

Yet if there was one thing that Jack was certain about tonight, it was that Batman would show up again and rescue him from this third-rate crime group trying to terrorize.

Save him and about forty others. _Wait, make it thirty-nine,_ Jack thought as one of the henchmen shot a man.

He waited, watching. There was nothing he could do but lean forward and try to make himself as small as possible inside the too hot room. The building was burning; they wouldn’t get out in time if Batman didn’t show up soon. Leave it to a bunch of small thugs to accidentally set the building on fire during a simple heist. 

The thought made Jack more anxious than he’d like to admit. 

He tested his bonds again. Nearby a woman tried to calm another, crying woman. She was strong; Jack could never do such a thing. Didn’t have the energy to waste on another person as his own patience and courage dwindled into nothing.

Where was Batman?

The room grew hotter. His black suit absorbed the heat, trapping it, sticking to his dampening skin. Jack wasn’t one to sweat, but he could feel it beading down his back and legs. Should’ve stuck with the white. Always go with the white. He thought back to the Joker at the butcher shop, the black suit that contrasted too perfectly with his own white uniform. He thought a black suit would fit in better at these parties, but in reality he felt as though he just mirrored the monster he saw that night. That he was one step closer to...

Jack shuddered.

The skylights exploded, the heat skyrocketing, taking his last feelings of calm along with it. Jack wished the sprinklers would go off, choke out the flames. Instead, only the glass from the skylight rained down on Jack and the other hostages, who ducked to protect themselves from the brief torrent. Blood from his fresh, scattered cuts fell from Jack’s face, and he choked back a pained groans at the sting.

He struggled against the ropes, convulsing, fighting to be free of the restraints holding him back and off the ground. Smoke licked at his lungs, making it harder than it already was to breathe. Jack’s pulse quickened, feeling like his heart would beat itself out of his chest. 

He needed to fight. He needed to fight. He needed to break the rope and fight, or else no one would make it out, and he’d die a pathetic coward.

It was a thought he couldn’t stand.

“I don’t think Batman’s coming, it’s been two hours and there’s still no sign of him.” One guest beside Jack muttered. Jack worried his lip. 

“He’ll come, Batman wouldn’t just abandon helpless victims. He’ll come!” Another said, trembling.

Jack pulled his knees to his chest best as he could, and sighed. He was scared. Batman would check on him every so often, through back alleys or whenever Jack was left to close shop again. Jack just played along, there was no point in fighting it and the Bat was just worried about him…or so he liked to think. Maybe Batman was more suspicious and was playing it safe by playing guard dog.

But here? Jack was alone, with no sign of Batman. It made his chest tight, the feeling of an oncoming anxiety attack growing ever more imminent. Unintentionally, he let out a soft groan. He couldn’t manage to make himself feel any smaller. He felt too vulnerable, too open. 

A click of a gun drew Jack from his thoughts as he looked up, face to face with the barrel. Jack’s eyes widened.

“I’ve had ‘nough waitin’,” The man said. “If the Bat hasn’t shown, the Bat won’t show and I’m tired of this game.” 

Jack just felt cold. Cold, despite being in a burning building, walls painted orange and yellow.

He clenched his eyes tight and looked down, shaking, uncharacteristically afraid at the potential danger quite literally staring him in the face. He could almost taste the metal from his own gun , a taste that he’d been acquainted with one too many times before. Images of the lake flashed through his mind, and along with it, Bruce Wayne.

As if on cue, Batman fell through the last unshattered skylight and landed on top of the goon holding the gun. With no hesitation, he threw a few batarangs, knocking guns out from some nearby henchmen’s hands before heading to aid a few victims.

“You always manage to get yourself into these predicaments, don’t you?” Batman huffed in amusement, cutting through the rope and freeing Jack. Jack just stared at him.

“You’re late.”

Batman gave an apologetic nod before handing Jack a knife to cut free the other hostages. Jack stared at the knife, blood running cold once more.

Just like the ax. Batman was trusting him to aid and defend the hostages with this knife. He could cut them free, save them, and be done for the night. He could leave the violence and arrests, securing the area and getting everyone out, up to Batman,. He could go home that night with clean hands, knowing he played hero for a day…

Or…he could—

Batman couldn’t keep an eye on Jack while fighting. Jack quickly took advantage of his small stature to discretely free the nearby hostages that shared a table with him. The distraction from the chaos of the battle with Batman allowed them to safely sneak away to the safety of the police force waiting outside. The building was burning, but it was under enough care that it wasn’t too far gone just yet. Jack sighed in relief and set to freeing another set of hostages.

All together it took about 20 minutes to free everyone without getting caught, but of course, that would’ve been too easy. With the final hostage set loose and running to freedom, Jack too quickly let down his guard and was caught by the leader of the crime group, thrown into a choke hold. The man was large, too large, nearly raising Jack off the ground. Jack choked and clawed at the thick arm with his gloved hands, and, with a pistol to his head, tried his best to balance on his tiptoes as the leader addressed Batman.

“Why are you confiding in this rat? He’s small and frail, nothing but an anxious coward trying to play hero. What is there to him, Batman?”

Batman stalled, unsure of how to respond. His brief hesitation was responded by a fierce strike to the back by another goon, causing Batman to fall to his chest with a rough _thud_. The smaller criminal held the vigilante’s arms behind his back, and Batman craned his neck to stare at Jack, who’s so sure he looks like he’s about to cry.

Taking a glance at the gun against his head, he saw his reflection against the metal and noticed there’s not only no tears, but also no fear. Instead?

Jack smiled.

Jack grabbed the gun and elbowed the man in the gut, effectively knocking the wind out of the bigger man. Despite his size, he was surprisingly weak. Jack shot the man in the knee, and when he was down, shoved the knife straight down into his back to the hilt. Jack pulled the knife out, and plunged the blade back in. Over, and over. And over. Repeatedly. He slashed at the man’s neck; he sliced his wrists and his face, accidently carving a smile.

It wasn’t enough, Jack wanted more. Joker cackled in his ears, ‘More, more! Don’t let him walk all over you, show him who you _really are!!’_

He couldn’t think, internally begging and screaming at himself not to continue, that he was doing something wrong, very wrong. Don’t listen!! Don’t listen to him!! He’s--

“Jack, _stop!_ ” Batman’s voice broke through the delirium.

Jack raised his arm high for another blow, but before he could cause any more damage, Batman grabbed his wrist. He was lifted, turned around harshly, and Batman cupped his face roughly between his Kevlar gloves. Blood from Jack’s cuts smeared.

It jerked him from the moment. It all stopped. He could breathe, Jack could finally breathe, silence settling in his eardrums. The Joker’s wicked cackles were replaced by a heavy silence, but even that was lifted from his ears by the sound breathing. Batman’s. He could hear Batman’s deep heavy breaths, which contrasted Jack’s haggard gasps. As he listened to their breaths his vision cleared, world no longer blinding white.

Henchmen were scattered about, out cold, save the leader, who was a butchered mess. Jack thought of the customer, and clutched desperately at Batman’s arm.

His smile didn’t fade.

“I couldn’t find Bruce Wayne.” Jack’s voice was so small. “I was left alone.”

Batman pulled Jack into a gentle embrace. Jack rested his cheek against Batman’s cold chest, feet flat on the floor, arms dropping to his sides as he let himself be comforted, again, by the man in black. Slowly, Jack’s uneven, hitched breathing halted to match the even pace of Batman’s. His eyelids drooped. Rope burns on his wrists ached. 

“Bats, what’s happening to me?”

Jack had killed again, and Batman couldn’t save him.

Unable to reply, Batman just held him tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u to my 2 moms Reyairia and Zuzeca for helping me with editing and stuff ;_; this is why am an artist and not a writer haha
> 
> More + Art at Jokerbi @ tumblr !!!


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